Priceless, not worthless
by TinkerTailorSoldierDumbass
Summary: He was so used to having his heart crushed again and again, he wondered if one day it would become so tattered he would need a new one. Love, in all of its aspects, had eluded him for some time and he was beginning to wonder if he should just give up. But some persistent thought kept telling him to try again, to give himself one last chance.


_Privet Comrades! This is the first fanfiction I've posted (but not the first I've written ^^) and I really hope that you like it. I was actually meant to be writing fluff to cheer myself up… but that kinda failed .… I know it's a T… so boring… there will be some M's on the way due to the persistence of a certain best mate and I hope to be uploading one soon! The conversation just before the fluffy bit was actually based on one I had with a friend… I love you so much France!_

_[DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia]_

Love. A word he seemed to think was overused. He heard it all the time; 'I just _love _that dress', 'I love your hair', 'I absolutely love *insert meaningless television programme here*'. Had any of these people really experienced true love? Had they really been so dependent on just one person and felt completely shattered when they left? No, he decided, they hadn't. They were to shallow and self-obsessed to understand how much it meant. It saddened him that maybe they were too wrapped up in their own lives to find someone to love.

He knew that his odd perceptions of other people isolated him, and that he became very possessive over the people he cared about. But to be honest, he'd given up trying to explain his feelings a long time ago. He was so used to having his heart crushed again and again, he wondered if one day it would become so tattered he would need a new one. Love, in all of its aspects, had eluded him for some time and he was beginning to wonder if he should just give up. But some persistent thought kept telling him to try again, to give himself one last chance.

He guessed it was this twisted hope that had led him behind the school building by the bins, and it was this final chance that was hurting him, not the boots that kicked him repeatedly in the stomach and chest.

"C'mon Braginsky." His primary tormenter called, ceasing to kick him and laughing amongst his friends. "Is that all you got?"

He glared at the American he'd come to hate so much, seeing no trace of the bubbly, blushing person he'd become attracted to in the past. What more could he do? If he said anything, it would be twisted and warped into something that may hurt the only person he really cared for. He closed his eyes and tried to hide his face in his arms. It was forecast to rain soon, he hoped it was correct. Maybe then he could hide his tears.

Alfred's lip curled in disgust. "I can't even believe I even let you _near _my little brother. Look at you, you're _weak._" He paid no attention, this kind of abuse had been directed at him for a long time, and he'd got so used to it now he really didn't care.

"Oi, _verlierer_, where's you're little boyfriend now?" A familiar voice sneered, accompanied by raucous laughter and further profanities. He tried to ignore the words but part of it sunk in deep. Where was Matthew? Had Alfred told him to keep away? Or was he just avoiding him?

He was wrenched up by two hands fisting in his collar. He came face to face with a pair of cruel blue eyes and a mouth curled up in a smirk. "Did you really think that Matthew gives a shit about who he dates? Do you think that you're _important _to him?"

He struggled against the American's grip, remaining silent but his gaze visibly darkening. This was a new insult. And it hurt a lot. A lot more than the lunchtime fights and the after school beatings combined. "Shut up." He growled quietly, using all of his self control in order to stop himself from punching the other boy. Matthew had always expressed his distaste at their constant bickering, so he'd tried his best not to retaliate. Well, if this was correct, it wouldn't really matter what Matthew said. "That's not true."

He'd always been confused about people's need to lie. He'd promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn't lie to people he cared about and he'd continued to keep this promise, answering all questions asked truthfully but sometimes not willingly. Maybe it was this dedication to honesty which had made him so childishly oblivious to the lies and deceptions of others. Or maybe it was just his awkwardness with other people, he couldn't decide which.

Alfred laughed in his face, kicking him in the shin as he did so. "How would you know? You don't live with him. Every time he comes home he always talks about you, like how you're always so angry at everyone. He tried to stop going out with you, but apparently you're too _possessive_."

His eyes widened but he hid his emotions carefully. For once, Alfred might be right. Matthew was always very quiet and never normally spoke his mind unless he was very upset or very happy. What if secretly, he'd been _scared _of him? Was this going to end up like his relationship with Toris had?

After a few seconds of heated silence, Alfred dropped him on the ground, wiping his hands on his trousers with mock disgust- like he'd just touched an animal. "If you touch my brother again" He shouted as he swaggered off with that albino boy. "You know what's gonna happen." Then they were gone, running off to their next lesson.

He lay on the ground in a shocked aura of pain and hatred. It wasn't so much the large bruises on his stomach and arms that hurt him, he could deal with that just fine. It was the aching pain in his chest, like someone had cut out his heart, frozen it, and put it back in. The pain in his heart often puzzled him. Emotions came from the brain; it had been scientifically proven years ago. So why was there this constant ripping sensation in his chest? Why did he feel like he was being torn apart from the inside?

He'd just been told that his boyfriend did not love him. That should have given him

anger or a desire for vengeance. Why did he still feel like he had felt every day for three months? Why had he still got this feeling of being cared for? Come on, he had to get over it. He just wasn't good enough for Matthew. And besides, he could easily hurt him if things got out of hand, and he didn't want that to happen. He was just going to have to realise that he was on his own now. There would be no smiling face to sit next to him in every lesson, no sympathetic friend to walk home with him, no blushing face to kiss whilst watching a film after school. He was alone again. His heart was crushed like the snapped and broken sunflowers around him he'd been meaning to give as a gift.

As predicted by the plastic-faced blonde on television that morning, it began to rain. It soaked through his school shirt, but luckily he'd left his jumper in his locker so he could just put that on top. The cool water washed all traces of the fight off his skin, cleansing him of blood and dirt. However, the mental wounds were still there, his emotions slashed into pieces and bleeding in his soul.

A low string of Russian curse words left his mouth as he heard the bell ring. He was going to have to get himself cleaned up so not to attract unwanted attention. He stood up and brushed the worst of the mud off his trousers, pushing his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. He skirted around the bins and slipped through one of the side doors, heading straight for his locker. After removing his jumper from said locker and checking that no-one was following him, he went into the toilets and leaned heavily on the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Blank purple eyes stared miserably over the nose he was so often embarrassed about, framed by rapidly drying strands of his off-white hair. Who was he kidding? Matthew needed someone kind and compassionate to look after him, not some lonely Russian boy who hurt everyone he tried to have a relationship of any sort with. He pulled his jumper over his head and rolled the sleeves down so they covered the shallow scrapes and blue marks on his forearms. There. That should make them look a little less obvious.

What lesson did he have next? Oh yeah, English. They never really did anything in that lesson so that would give him enough time to sort himself out. Was he going to tell Matthew how he felt now? No, there was no point. Matthew didn't even like him.

He walked into the classroom quickly, keeping his head down and ignoring the jeers and taunts he received. Shit. He was sat next to Matthew wasn't he? Could he just ask to move? He wasn't likely to be granted permission; the teacher seemed to have a thing against him that even he wasn't too sure about. He reached his seat and sat down without a word, pulling out his textbooks and opening the first one. It was an English play, _Macbeth. _He enjoyed this one a lot more than all of the romance ones; it was about darkness and deception and eventual insanity. He could relate to Macduff's isolation and his helplessness as Macbeth continued to ruin his life. He just hoped that his love would not decide to commit suicide.

Matthew entered the room a short while later, smiling weakly at Alfred and his other three friends who greeted him in their respective languages. He then turned his gaze to the Russian boy he'd grown to care for so much and was surprised to see him with his head buried in a book. The Ivan he normally sat next to openly detested all manner of English literature, claiming that the Russians did everything better. It had made him laugh that the only Shakespeare play he liked was Macbeth, one of the most tragic and gory ones.

"Bonjour." He said happily, sitting down next to him and grinning. Kumajirou jumped onto the table, nuzzling his master's arm. When the Russian did not reply, he frowned with concern. Normally he would have been greeted by a warm smile and possibly a shy kiss on the cheek. Why was Ivan ignoring him? He put a hand gently on his arm, trying to see his face. "Ivan, what's up?"

Warm feelings tingled up his arm at the touch, but he forced himself not to give in. Damn. Why did he have to sound so innocent? It was so hard to resist, he just wanted to turn around and hand the Canadian his heart once more. But he didn't want to have his heart crushed, did he? And besides, if he rejected Matthew, then maybe he would find someone better to love. There was no point in loving him when all he did was hurt. He hid his face behind his hair and shifted his arm so Matthew's hand slid off it and onto the table. He was almost completely turned away from him now, hunching up his shoulders and keeping his head lowered so Matthew couldn't see his facial expression.

Matthew was confused. Only this morning he had exchanged hugs with Ivan and had chatted away happily to him throughout the rest of the lessons. So why was he so upset now? Had something happened when he was in French?

"Leave him alone Mattie, he's not worth it." His brother yelled from the other side of the classroom, making him glare back at him. "He's just a loser."

"Shut up Alfred." He shouted back, as loudly as he could. But, predictably, he was ignored. He was back to being invisible. Alfred had only spoken to him in order to convey his hatred towards his boyfriend. He turned back to Ivan and sighed, patting his shoulder gently. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Don't answer. Just don't answer. If you do, you'll say something stupid and make Matthew even more worried. He shrugged, turning a page on his textbook and pretending to make notes. The teacher had come in and was beginning to drone on about something to do with symbolisms, something which just bored him out of his mind. He really didn't care what something in a book meant, it wasn't real so it didn't matter. He stared at the words on the page, writing some more aimless annotations that would at least make it look like he was working. He began to write more and more, focusing on each phrase as if his life depended on it. Concentrate on the work, just don't think about Matthew.

They sat there for the rest of the English lesson in a sullen silence, Matthew constantly frowning over at Ivan as if he needed to check he was still there. Ivan continued to stare down at the play, quietly making notes and generally ignoring everyone. He didn't even look up when Gilbert was sent out for some reason; normally he would have smirked and made some remark about him, his prissy Austrian boyfriend or his brother. He wasn't even ignoring everything because he wanted to think- his mind was totally blank and devoid of matters in reality, he was focused on the dark castle in Scotland and the deaths and tragedies that occurred there.

The bell for the end of school went, making the class jump and begin to rush out of the door. Ah, salvation. Salvation in the form of a broken bell that often went off at odd times and did everyone's head in, but salvation nonetheless. He stood up and stuffed his books into his bag, striding out of the door quickly so that no-one tried to follow him. He took a left instead of a right, deciding to walk home instead of taking the bus. He was taking the most ludicrous shortcuts, it was almost amusing. Ah, there was his sick sense of humour again. He was showing amusement at the fact he was avoiding his boyfriend because of what he had been told and was now acting like a stroppy little child.

Matthew watched in worry as the Russian practically ran out of the classroom, leaving a trail of bewildered and smirking faces in his wake. Alfred said something to him but he paid no attention, deciding to give the American a taste of his own medicine. He avoided a hug from Francis by swerving to one side and hurrying down the corridor, knowing that he blended in perfectly. He went down a side-corridor and leaned against the wall, taking Kumajirou out of his bag and hugging him tight, burying his face in the soft white fur.

"What did I do Kumagada?" He mumbled, feeling the bear squirm in discomfort. "I don't understand." Kumajirou patted his arm comfortingly with a paw, his shiny black eyes looking up at his master with confusion.

"Where's the other bear?" He asked peevishly, looking over Matthew's shoulder. "He looked angry."

Matthew shrugged, picking up his bag again and taking out his phone. "I don't know…he just won't talk to me…" He sent a quick 'gn home erly to make dnnr' to Alfred and jogged down the corridor, trying to work out where Ivan had gone. He was going to have to talk to him, this wasn't normal at all and he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

He looked behind him again, just to check that no-one was following him. The street was empty. Good. Hopefully Matthew had taken a hint and had just gone home. He hated leaving things like this but he knew it was for the best, his affections weren't returned so there was no point in caring now. He wondered if his sisters had texted him to say they were going to be away for the night again. He paused under a street lamp to check his phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Katayusha asking where he was. He texted back that he was on his way and continued walking, shoving his hands into his pockets as it began to rain again. He hated winter so much; it just depressed him and made him shiver all the time.

He knew Ivan wouldn't have taken the bus- Alfred usually went on it as well and he knew how much the Russian hated him. Oh Dieu, where had he gone? He jogged out of the school building and down the main street, Kumajirou still held tight in his arms. He crossed the road without bothering to look and headed down the street Ivan's house was on. He began to feel slightly nervous about confronting the Russian. What if Ivan had decided to move on and didn't like him anymore? He pushed those thoughts down and focused on walking. One two, one two. He forced himself not to cry. He'd always been teased by Alfred for being a cry baby, and he knew that it was stupid that he was so oversensitive. But he just couldn't help it. Every time he was upset or something wasn't going right, his eyes would start to well up with tears and he would sob for a considerable amount of time until he was comforted, usually by Ivan.

Why the fuck was he walking so fast? It wasn't like anyone was actually following him. But, for once he was anxious about getting home. What if Katayusha started asking questions? He'd promised to her and more importantly to himself that he wouldn't lie about his feelings, so this was going to be no exception. At least he wouldn't have a reason to stop Natalia from trying to kill Alfred anymore. He'd almost reached his now and he slowed his pace, not knowing that Matthew had just seen him.

Wait… was that Ivan? He didn't shout to him, in case Ivan decided to ignore him again, instead quickening his pace and crossing the road again so he was on the same side as him. Just as Ivan was about to open the gate, he decided to speak. "Ivan!" He said loudly, immediately making the Russian freeze. "There you are!"

Shit. How had Matthew followed him? He'd not seen anyone on the road when he'd been walking, but then again Matthew had a strange habit of just blending into the background. He stopped moving completely, his hand still resting on the gate. "What do you want?" It came out slightly harsher than he'd expected, but that was the point. A small amount of pain now would save an eon of agony in the future.

Matthew stepped back slightly, alarmed at Ivan's sharp tone. He'd never talked to him like that, even when he was angry. Sure, he spoke a lot like that when he was arguing with Alfred and Gilbert, but he'd always spoken so softly and gently to him. He wondered what had prompted the sudden change in tone. Ivan's head was bowed, and Matthew could see his hand tightening his hand on the wooden gate, almost crushing it in his fist. Whatever was on his mind, he didn't want Matthew to know at all. "I was just checking if-"

"I'm fine, there's no need to worry. Just go." He snapped, not moving but looking up to glare at Matthew. How could the Canadian still sound so innocent and concerned when he didn't even like him? He saw Matthew's expression of anguish and it made his chest hurt again, but he did not break his gaze.

Those eyes. They weren't like Ivan at all. They were so dark and filled with hate and sadness, it broke his heart to see him like this. He pressed on though, taking a cautious step forwards and frowning. "Did I do something wrong Ivan? Please tell me."

He laughed bitterly, trying to rein in his temper. He still like Matthew of course, it was just the fact that he was being cheated that made him so angry. "Did you? I should be the one asking that question." He decided to prolong the conversation a bit, some selfish part of him wanted to show Matthew how much he had been hurt.

"Ivan, what are you talking about? You haven't done anything." He began to get more panicked. Had he said something unintentionally that had hurt him? Had he done something that had made Ivan so upset? He tried to meet the Russian's gaze again but he was now staring blankly at the floor, his hand now hanging limply by his side. Judging by the black rings around his eyes and the stance in which he held himself, this problem had been bugging him for some time.

"Then why are you not happy with our relationship?" He cried, snapping his head up to look at him again. His eyes had gone wide and desperate now, just wanting to know the truth. He now cared not for revenge or 'payback'; he just wanted to get things straight.

Kumajirou was wriggling in his arms again. He hated loud noises, and this was making him very distressed. Matthew put him down on the floor and the bear eyed Ivan warily, hoping that he wasn't going to shout again. "What do you mean? Of course I'm happy with our relationship."

He was lying to him. He couldn't believe it. Couldn't Matthew just tell him the truth and get over it? He glared venomously at the floor, his large form visibly trembling. "That's not what you told Alfred." There. That would make him tell the truth.

"Wait. You think I'm not happy so I told _Alfred?_ Ivan, I have no idea where this has come from but it is definitely not true." He began to talk faster and louder, his own temper slowly rising. Ivan was making no sense whatsoever. He'd never talked to Alfred about Ivan; it was always a sensitive subject considering how much his brother hated him. So how could Ivan have thought that he'd told Alfred that he didn't like him?

He was beginning to get frustrated. "Just go." He said quietly, his face twisting into a grimace. "I'm not good enough for you, you said it yourself. Go and find someone else to make you happy." He turned away and began to walk up the path, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

Wait. When had he ever said that Ivan wasn't good enough for him? Oh. "What the hell Ivan? Who said that?"

That made Ivan stop dead in his tracks. "I did. Now go away. Like I said, I'm not good enough. Find someone who's not as worthless as me." The last bit came out a bit cracked as he tried to hold back his tears. He never cried about things like this, ever. He'd cried over the loss of his parents, he'd cried over cut fingers and bumped knees when he was younger, but never over someone else. He'd never really felt strongly about anyone so no emotions were dredged up when they left him. Matthew was different though. No-one else made his heart hurt this much; no-one else had ever been this hard to push away. "Go!" The words helped him get out the last of his anger, leaving him only with a terrible crushing sadness and a familiar sense of self-hatred. Having Matthew had made him think that he was actually able to care for someone, it made him feel useful and made him learn to care about himself as well. He guessed now he was going back to square one. He'd got so many long scars on his forearms from the amount of times he'd just reached that point where he just didn't care about himself anymore. He guessed that there would be some more added to the gruesome array he currently possessed in a couple of day's time, when he relapsed into his previous state of depression. He just hoped that this time they didn't give him counselling- the woman never did anything to help him and just told him things about himself that he already knew.

"Ivan…" he said gently, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve. Ivan didn't look at him but it was clear that he was listening. "Do you really think all that stuff Alfred says to you is true? Do you think I don't… love you?" Oh dear, he was crying now. He knew Ivan hated it so much when he cried but he couldn't help it. He sniffed and tried to wipe away his tears, but they just kept coming.

He didn't answer but turned around to look at him, eyes clouded with tears. Matthew was crying properly, his face pale his nose slightly red from the cold. He looked so pathetic, stood in front of him with on hand gripping his sleeve tightly. His chest tightened as he prepared to deliver the final verbal blow, but he just couldn't do it. His voice had gone, completely overwhelmed by the amount of emotion he was trying to suppress.

"Ivan… I know stuff that happened in the past was difficult for you and… I know how much it upsets you but you need to look forward. Stop thinking that you're worthless, we're all equal, aren't we?" He let loose a torrent of French curses he didn't even know he knew, why was Ivan making this so hard for himself?

"It's not about the past." He mumbled, twisting his arm so Matthew let go of his sleeve.

"Then what is it? Ivan, please just tell me."

This conversation had taken a nasty turn, he hadn't really expected this. "You're just an amazing person" He said, a solitary tear slipping down his cheek. "You just have such an… amazing personality… you're so kind and…" He broke off, trying to calm himself.

"Ivan, why do you think I am better than you? You're special, and I'm special. We're both unique, and you should be proud of that."

"You're… just better." His voice shook as more tears joined the first, dripping off his chin and onto his scarf. "You never harmed anyone… or yourself…"

"Me? I must have harmed, but unintentionally. We all do, Ivan." He laughed gently, as if that gesture would somewhat reassure the Russian in front of him. He didn't know if he should hug Ivan or not, he- just seemed so helpless and confused, it made him so upset to see him like this.

"Well I harm intentionally. I do it because I like hurting people who hate me… you're not like that…" He began to raise his voice again, taking deep breaths to help slow the flow of tears.

"Who cares what I'm like?" He cried in exasperation, so upset by Ivan's negativity. "You're you, and I'm me, and I love you for being you. We all have to accept that this is who we are… and that we can't change anything. Ivan… I don't want to lose you…Ivan I…" He would just say it in French, it made life so much easier and he knew Ivan had a limited vocabulary of simple words. "Je t'aime Ivan. You know I do. Just don't ever say you're worthless again." Without thinking too much because he knew it would just bring more tears, he moved forward and wrapped arms around the Russian's middle, burying his face in his chest. He felt Ivan stiffen in surprise but Matthew paid no attention, just hugging him tighter.

He was speechless. He had no idea what to say. Even all attempts at saying something in Russian failed miserably. Matthew was still hugging him tightly, sobbing quietly into his jacket. So Alfred had been lying to him. He needed to get better at telling truth from fiction, he really did. Because of his obliviousness to Alfred's false words he'd got himself twisted up in this stupid mess. Oh, it was all his fault. He'd just hurt Matthew without even meaning to. He'd made him cry as well, he'd made him think that he'd done something wrong. He was so stupid; he was going to have to sort it all out now. He hugged Matthew back, trying not to crush him. "Matvey…" He whispered into his hair, knowing that Matthew liked the Russian variant of his name.

He sniffed and looked up, feeling Ivan's arms loosen around him slightly. Ivan was looking down at him, his eyes shiny with tears. Matthew smiled softly at him, reaching up and gently stroking his cheek. "Ivan… please don't say stuff like that about yourself. I don't care what Gilbert or Alfred think, you're beautiful to me. I love you for who you are, not for the perfect person you try to be all the time. Please… just be you Ivan… don't try to be anyone else. And you're not worthless at all." He stood on his tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You're priceless."

Ivan sobbed softly, pulling Matthew close to his chest. The pain in his heart had been replaced by a warm feeling that was steadily creeping through his limbs, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise and making the rain feel less cold. "Sorry for all the crying…" He sniffed, burying his face in the Canadian's shoulder.

"Don't be sorry, it's healthy. Cry your eyes out if you must, don't bottle it up. It's healthy to show emotion." He began to shiver again, the rain had soaked completely through his jacket and he knew that Ivan was freezing cold as well. "Um… can we go in now? We've been outside for like, twenty minutes."

Ivan stood up properly and smiled, turning round and unlocking the door. "Da. Would you like to stay for a bit? I'm sure that Katayusha won't mind." He put an arm around the Canadian, ushering him inside and closing the door behind him. Good. At least the heating was on. He helped Matthew take off his jacket and hung it on a peg, putting his own one next to it. "Those should dry off after a while. Would you like anything to eat?"

"Non. Any anyway, I think you should take a rest." He pushed him into the living room and sat him down on the sofa, laughing at his bewildered expression. He was filled with a warm, bubbly feeling as he walked into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and pottering around for anything to eat. Not finding anything other than something involving cooking, he went back into the living room. He sat down beside Ivan, kissing him on the cheek.

"Um… sorry about what I said… I wasn't really thinking…" Ivan mumbled, slipping an arm around Matthew's waist. Matthew just laughed and kissed the tip of his nose, making him blush.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to Alfred later." His hand went to the back of the Russians neck, pulling him closer gently. He was so glad their argument hadn't lasted for very long, he hated it when Ivan did himself down and it upset him deeply that he hated himself so much. He just hoped that if they stayed together, he would become happy again.

"Just don't murder him, leave that to me." He chuckled and kissed Matthew properly, leaning down so that he didn't have to reach. The Canadian kissed him back gently, his fingers running through his hair.

Listening to the French part of him that he rarely ever used or paid attention to, he moved so he was sat in Ivan's lap, pushing him back slightly against the cushions. Ivan made a muffled noise and nibbled on Matthew's bottom lip, asking for entrance. Matthew parted his lips willingly, feeling the Russian's tongue slide into his mouth. He moaned softly against the kiss.

"Ivan? Would you like some tea?" Katayusha chirped from the doorway, her eyes widening as she saw Ivan and Matthew on the couch. Her face went pink. "Oh…"

Ivan broke the kiss regretfully, turning to look at his sister. Matthew blushed and looked away, embarrassed that someone had seen him. "Nyet. I am busy." His own face was flushed and he looked somewhat sheepish.

Katayusha smirked. "I can see that. I'll leave you be now." She smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Ivan shifted on the sofa so that Matthew lay on top of him and grabbed a blanket from the arm of the sofa, draping it over them both. Matthew stroked his cheek with his thumb, smiling lazily down at him. "Next time, please don't listen to my stupid brother."

Ivan chuckled, kissing him again. "I'll try not to."

***FIN***


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